


Rock You Like the Sea

by writergirl8



Series: Move Like You're Stolen [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also lots of Izzy because I forget that she isn't a real character on TW and I made her up, F/M, Gratuitous Allison mentions, This is basically just fanfiction of my own fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/pseuds/writergirl8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He spends his nights actively trying to avoid Lydia’s facebook and instagram feeds, because she has a boyfriend, and Stiles can’t stand the idea of another man causing her to make the noises that Stiles had become so familiar with in that small Bed and Breakfast with cats on the wall. </i>
</p><p><i>It’s not as if he has any right to those noises. But he still doesn’t want to think of them outside the context of their quiet intimacy, surrounded by pillows and blankets and Lydia’s smiling lips bumping against Stiles’ shoulder.</i> </p><p>---</p><p>Stiles definitely isn't supposed to cry at a Taylor Swift concert. Then again, he's also not supposed to still be in love with Lydia Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock You Like the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Maggie, redstringbanshee on tumblr, because she doesn't love Taylor Swift but I made her love Wildest Dreams and that's really all I can ask for. Also because I love this universe and I was bound to try to play in it again... I'm definitely not surprised this happened. 
> 
> The title is from Move Like U Stole it by ZZ Ward, and was supposed to be the original title of Move Like You're Stolen because Lydia rocks Stiles to his core and that will never, ever change, no matter what universe I shove them into.
> 
> I'm rongasm on tumblr if you need someone to chat with about hiatus blues!

It's nearly 1am by the time Scott finally manages to pull Stiles and Izzy away from the throngs of people and steer them towards the parking lot. Normally, Stiles would take the lead, as he is the one of the three of them who would be most willing to shove a straggler to the ground if they got in his way. But tonight he's got Izzy's fingers wrapped around his wrist, trying to guide him through the crowd, and Stiles relies on her touch to keep him from bumping into anything. His head is down, his heart low in his stomach, and he can't think. He can't think because thinking leads him directly to Lydia, and thinking of Lydia hurts too much.

He hasn't seen her since Derek's wedding— hasn't even _talked_ to her since Derek's wedding— and although there is no part of him that would give up the weekend of sex they had in Maine, he also hasn't been able to look at another woman since then. He spends his nights actively trying to avoid Lydia's facebook and instagram feeds, because she has a _boyfriend_ , and Stiles can't stand the idea of another man causing her to make the noises that Stiles had become so familiar with in that small Bed and Breakfast with cats on the wall.

It's not as if he has any right to those noises. But he still doesn't want to think of them outside the context of their quiet intimacy, surrounded by pillows and blankets and Lydia's smiling lips bumping against Stiles' shoulder.

By the time they get into the car, Stiles is still thinking about it. He hunches over in the backseat while Scott takes the passenger's seat and Izzy sits on the driver's side. For a moment, the three of them sit without speaking, adjusting to the sound of silence. Then Izzy thrums her fingers against the wheel and turns to Scott and Stiles, her eyebrows creating a look of expectancy.

"Alright," she says. "Who's going first?" Scott doesn't say anything. Stiles burrows deeper into his seat, turning to look out the window. "Are we just not going to talk about this at all?" Izzy asks, looking amused and exasperated.

"Stiles should go first," Scott says, breaking his vigil, and Stiles' mouth drops open.

"Dude, what? Way to fuckin' throw me under the—"

"It's not like I don't already know what happened," Izzy sighs, turning towards the front and buckling her seatbelt. She starts the car, then eases out of the spot. "Neither of you are very subtle."

"When I agreed to come to this, I didn't realize I'd be subjected to questioning via torture," Stiles snaps. "Would you prefer to waterboard me, Iz?"

Scott turns in the seat long enough to flash Stiles a warning look.

"Dude. You _begged_ to come with us."

"What? I did not!"

The truth is, Stiles distinctly remembers the day Scott had called him on the phone and excitedly told him that Izzy had gotten Taylor Swift concert tickets for their anniversary. He remembers being so jealous that he had kept his answers short and perfunctory, because Stiles has always been guilty of liking top 40's radio too much, and Taylor Swift is no exception. And he can recall sitting through several minutes of Scott droning on about matching t-shirts until Stiles finally snapped that he should shut up about the concert.

"Oh," Scott had said, voice innocent. "So… does that mean you don't want your ticket?"

Stiles had let out a noise that was basically inhuman, and that had been that.

"I don't see why you don't won't just admit why Wildest Dreams made you cry."

"Don't say the name," Stiles says, his voice pleading.

"It's still fresh," agrees Scott.

Izzy snorts, but she put a comforting hand on Scott's arm, probably because the shit that he's dealing with is way worse than the shit Stiles is dealing with. At least Stiles' shit can be solved by getting up the gall to fuck a girl who isn't Lydia Martin. Scott will never have Allison back. He doesn't have to remember her until the next wedding— he has to keep memories of her forever because there will never be any new ones.

"It made me think about Lydia," Stiles says finally, taking one for the team. "Happy?"

"Oh, come on, you know I'm not," Izzy tells him, removing the hand from Scott's arm and reaching it behind her to put Stiles consolingly on the knee. "I want you to be happy, Stiles."

"I miss her," says Stiles.

"Good," Izzy coaches, and Stiles shoots her an annoyed glare from the backseat, even though he knows she's just trying to do what's right for him. "And what part of the song made you think about Lydia?"

Stiles thinks.

"You know the 'say you'll see me again even if it's just pretend' part," he says, and Scott makes a small noise and leans his forehead against the window. "Cuz, you know, I'm not sure if I'm ever gonna… like, have that. With Lydia. Y' know? I want it, but she doesn't want it, and next time I see her, I'll be _looking_ at her, but it won't be the same as that weekend. She'll probably have that other guy with her."

Izzy is respectfully silent for several moments.

"Yeah, that _does_ suck," she says eventually. "But, Stiles, it's fixable."

"Not unless you've got the power to change someone's mind about whether or not they're in love with me."

"I did it to Scott!" Izzy teases.

"Lydia's way more stubborn than Scott is."

"Oh, that's actually true!" Scott says brightly.

"Look, I don't know Lydia very well, but I do know that if she's anywhere near as wonderful as the stories make her out to be, there's no reason why she wouldn't want to be with someone just as wonderful as she is," says Izzy tenderly.

"Thank you," Stiles says, "for that complete bullshit."

"I know you're being positive, but... Izzy. The guy's been pining after this girl since he was in third grade. And he's been in love with her since high school."

"And now she's spent a whole weekend having sex with him. It's not the same."

Something about the way Izzy says the second sentence makes Stiles' head jerk up from where he has been staring at his fingers.

"Why did you put emphasis on that?"

"What?" responds Izzy arily.

"You were gritting your teeth."

"I wasn't."

"Izzy—"

"Izzy," Scott says, trying not to laugh. "He heard."

She shoots Scott a look as she flicks on her turn signal.

"It's your rule," says Izzy simply.

"Does this have to do with the meddling rule?" Stiles asks, interjecting.

"Yeah," Scott admits. "But, seriously, dude, I can't. You know I can't tell you."

"What can't you tell me?"

Scott meets Stiles' desperate eyes in the rearview mirror. He looks sorry. It doesn't make it okay.

"Scott, do you you want to talk about Allison now?" Izzy pushes gently. Scott deflates. Nods against the window.

"'Kay," he says shakily.

—

Stiles sleeps through most of the ride home. He wakes up to Scott's hands insistently tapping him awake.

"You were snoring," says Scott, and Scott bats his hand away, pretending to be annoyed. He isn't, really. He's grateful. He's grateful that he gets to stand between Scott and Izzy as they walk up to the door of their condo. He's grateful that he has clothes in their guest room, and that their dog loves him, and that Izzy cares about him enough to keep a giant, printed out picture of Stiles and Scott at front and center on their refrigerator.

He's grateful that it's moments like these, because he doesn't feel as alone as he would on any other night, when he's stuck in a cold apartment actively avoiding thinking about anything that doesn't make him feel numb anymore.

Stiles changes into his pajamas and lets Izzy jokingly shove him to the side in the bathroom as he's brushing his teeth. She kisses him on the cheek as he leaves the bathroom, heading into their guest room and closing the door.

Honestly, he doesn't know why he's surprised when Scott heads in a moment later and sits on the edge of the bed next to Stiles.

"Hey," he says. "You okay? For real?"

Stiles scrunches his nose up, letting his eyes skate up to the ceiling.

"Scott, shut up," he complains. "Do we have to keep talking about the Lydia thing like it's not one-hundred-percent my fault? I know, okay? You don't have to fake whatever it is that you're faking."

There's a concerned look on Scott's face that Stiles absolutely hates.

"Have you been dating at all?"

"Nope."

The way Stiles says it closes the conversation topic firmly.

"Stiles—"

"I don't know how to _want_ anyone else. Not like I want her."

"You can't try?"

"Is it even worth it if the other girl doesn't measure up?"

"How will you know another girl won't make you feel the way Lydia does unless you try to be with another girl?"

Stiles laughs humorlessly.

"We played that game in high school, buddy."

"You were happy."

"I was… bandaged. Sedated."

Scott nods because he knows. Because they've been over this. Because it's been inevitable for so long.

"Stiles, maybe… maybe try _talking_ to Lydia?"

But he shakes his head.

"She doesn't want me to."

"Did she say that?"

"I know her," Stiles points out. Scott's brows are pinched, but he can't argue with that, and that's what makes Stiles keep talking. "How's she doing?"

Scott nods as he says, "She's good."

"She's happy?"

One shoulder slides up, but Scott doesn't say anything. "Is work good?"

"You really can't ask her your—?"

"She doesn't want that, Scott."

He _knows_. He _knows_ her.

"I'm gonna go to sleep," Scott says, shooting Stiles a sad smile as he gets up. "Do you think you're gonna be able to sleep tonight?"

"I'll be fine," Stiles lies.

"Text me if you have a nightmare or something," Scott says as he heads to the door.

"'Course," Stiles says, shrugging.

Scott pauses in the doorframe, his crooked jaw illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"I miss Allison."

"Yeah," Stiles agrees.

"Does it make me—?"

"No," Stiles says firmly. "You can still love Izzy just as much as you do _and_ miss Allison. You're always going to love Allison."

Scott's posture untenses.

"Thanks."

"'Night, Scotty."

He plays Wildest Dreams over and over again after Scott leaves. He almost texts Lydia three times. And he vows that he's going to spend every moment of Isaac's wedding with Lydia Martin, trying to get her to love him the way he loves her.

Because this ache that he feels? He can't keep feeling it. He can't keep living in this part of the story.

After all— nothing lasts forever.


End file.
